


Cold Feet

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Brian Kinney Loves Justin Taylor, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Caretaking, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, It's Queer As Folk of Course There is Sex, Justin Taylor Loves Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor Takes Care of Brian Kinney, Liberty Diner (Queer as Folk), M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk), Post-series: Queer as Folk, Sexual Content, Sick Brian Kinney, Toy Story References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: Outside there are cheers. Dancing in the streets. Gay wedding orgies.Meanwhile, in Brian’s loft, he and Justin are in bed, not naked, dealing with yet another challenge that life has decided to throw their way. It’s what they do, though, and it’s just as valid as any trip down a flowery, candlelit aisle.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Cold Feet

Bells chime. The crowd squeezes down Liberty’s narrow sidewalk in their Saturday night best, the nellies doing their impression of Princess Diana in lace and the rest donning mismatched thrift store suits and colorful bowties. A drag queen sings “Here Cums the Bride” on key. 

Nothing like a queer wedding orgy to bump off a Saturday night. 

Turns out mass elopements are the latest kink since gay nuptials have finally been legalized in good ‘ole PA. 

“Fuck it, I changed my mind.” 

Brian squirms, turns away from the window. Justin fights his partner’s defenses, his own gimp hand struggling to maintain its grip on their long-held connection. Their community cheers somewhere in the distance. It’s all so cliché and Brian covers his ears, glares at the Armani suit hanging impatiently in his open closet.

“Brian, breathe. Try to relax.” 

“I can’t.” His curling palms muffle the words. “This was a bad idea.” 

Justin sits back, his body stiff and his face sagging. Brian watches him toy with the soft fabric between his knuckles, letting it linger over his bare, left ring finger.

“Brian…” Justin whines. The older man tosses a pillow in the younger’s general direction, intentionally avoiding any actual collision. It serves its purpose in putting space between them and allowing Brian to shrink further into himself.

“Justin…” Brian mocks. “No means no. Forget it.” 

The fucker actually smirks. 

“I thought ‘monogamy’ meant no. Or did we change our safe word?”

Brain groans into his palms. “Fuck. Off. Twat.” The streetlights penetrate the window and shine their warm, yellow glow on Justin’s half-buttoned dress shirt, one pink nipple peeking through. On any other day he’d help himself, but there is nothing hot about this act of domesticity. 

Justin, though, doesn’t seem deterred by his reluctance. 

“That’s not what Cinderella said when the prince returned her glass slipper.” 

Brian shifts, faces Justin’s optimism stubbornly and bites his cheek through the pins and needles. 

“Yea, well the glass slipper didn’t say “To Infinity and Beyond,” now did it?” 

Justin shrugs, laughs lightly, plays around with the socks in his lap. “You like Toy Story. You said you’d totally fuck Woody, remember?” 

Only this kid would look past his dramatics with a casual shrug. He supposes that’s why they’re here, together, today. Costars in their own fucked up soap opera. 

“I was on E.” Brian wiggles his tingling toes, digs fingernails into the mattress to keep himself grounded. “I would have fucked the talking dinosaur too. Doesn’t mean I want it as a fashion statement.” 

“Well, these are the best I could find in your size at the Q on short notice.” Then, of course, the blonde is back at his side again, determined to win this round. “I ordered another set, black to match the latest Armani collection, and I picked up your meds too. Figured you’d need them to get through today.” 

So fucking domestic. Why does he put up with it again? 

The stubborn twink turns around and fishes the little pill bottle out of the bag, and _oh yea, that ass._ A bottle of water emerges from the bottomless sack and two pills land in Brian’s waiting palm. He downs them quickly and with a dramatic sigh. 

“I need another kind of pill to get through today.” He fantasizes about tracing the exposed curve between Justin’s lower back and bottom and then turns back into the sheets, his nerves erupting in a feeling opposite of pleasure. “I hate this shit. It’s not me.” 

“I know.” The blonde leans in with shining eyes, Brian’s shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders. “We’ll get through it. Just like we get through everything. I love you, Mr. Kinney, and you’re not getting rid of me no matter how many times you tell me fuck off today.” 

Brian feels Justin’s careful approach, senses the pending touch in his sparking nerves. He moves further up the bed, protecting himself from the inevitable pain. 

“You have no idea how it feels, Sunshine. It’s like I’m on fucking fire.” Justin meets his eyes. Brian blinks back a wince. “So, forgive me if I’m not thrilled about walking into the inferno again.” 

Justin exhales, crawls his way up their bed and lays to the side. He puts a comfortable amount of room between their skin and faces Brian with the most serene, soft expression. The bells ring again. Pittsburgh’s spring air seeps through the crack in the window, along with the skunky scent of celebration, and cools Brian’s flushed cheeks. 

“You’re right, I don’t know. Just like you didn’t know what it was like when I couldn’t use my hand after the bashing. You still fought for me, took care of me, and talked to every doctor in the fucking city trying to fix me.” He pushes his fingers through the sock again, Buzz Lightyear smiling up. “Pittsburg’s best doctors told me that soft, warm socks will help with the neuropathy and make you more comfortable.” 

Outside there are cheers. Dancing in the street. It’s a beautiful fucking day. Meanwhile, in Brian’s loft, he and Justin are in bed, not naked, dealing with yet another challenge that life has decided to throw their way. It’s okay, he thinks. It’s what they do and it’s just as valid as any trip down a flowery, candlelit aisle. 

Bashing, brain damage, fiddlers, crooked cops, poverty, cancer, explosions, distance. Now, neuropathy from the very treatment that saved his life. 

They’d conquered it all like fucking superheroes, Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor with their indestructible relationship and dicks to match. 

Maybe Mikey should write a comic book about them next. 

“Well then.” Brian mimics the animated cowboy’s voice. “Let’s find out together.”

Justin laughs, his face the definition of joy, and fuck if it doesn’t make Brian forget about the pain for a few seconds. The boy backs slowly down to the foot of the bed, his limbs sidling sensually, and carefully lifts the comforter from Brian’s bare left foot. The cold air hits it like a brick. Brian hisses from the sudden sensation and Justin wraps the covers back around until only his toes are showing, dilated eyes moving from Brian’s feet to his face.

He inserts the first two fingers of both hands into one sock, biting his lip sensually, and slowly bunching the fabric up into his waiting palms. That shouldn’t be getting Brian hard, but his dick has always had its own mind when it comes to this twink.

“Remember the first time I put a condom on you?”

Brian scoffs, hugs a pillow, squints at the boy. “How could I forget? Two broken rubbers later and your virgin fingers finally figured it out. Good thing your _virgin ass_ was hot, so I was still hard as a rock.”

“Yea, well my expensive, elite prep school focused more on abstinence.” Justin grinned devilishly up from between Brian’s legs. “Good thing I enrolled in Sex-ed with Professor Kinney.” 

The sock passes his toes slowly, winding down like a snug lambskin. It breaches the toe line, Brian biting his lip through the tingling sensation, but managing. Justin bites his lip too in that way he does right before he gives a phenomenal blowjob. Brian freezes on at that image, swallows his pending lust, speaks with a hoarse voice. 

“And you were an A+ student Mr. Taylor. Highly deserving of that _full ride_ scholarship.” Justin advances the sock over his heel, the most sensitive part, and Brian gasps. “Fuck, that stings.” 

“That’s what I said the first time too, right before you found the right angle.” 

Brian snorts, grins. The little shit.

Justin’s artist hands take every mishap in stride, adjusting the fabric here and smoothing it down there. It’s still overwhelming, even the most minute touch is during a flareup, but the kid has a way of making it bearable. 

“You taught me everything I know. Made me into the best homosexual I could be.” 

Brian moaned at the memory of his own words. Justin smoothed the first sock down and then moved onto his other bare foot, freeing it from the blankets like it was fucking Excalibur itself. 

“There is that one thing you do with your tongue. That little flicker and suck.” Brian exhales, smiles at the memory of that blowjob. “I’m almost certain that wasn’t me.” 

Justin smiles so bright Brian swears the sun’s come out at midnight. 

“Sometimes the student becomes the teacher.” Brian meets those enticing eyes, squinted just enough, and it numbs the pain of the second sock hugging his arch. “Does that mean I qualify for the advanced course?” 

Brian lets his head fall back onto the pillow, allows his erection to harden, savors the sound of Justin’s voice over the electrical storm going on in his nervous system. It’s a shower of sensations confusing and orgasmic. 

“Well, that will require additional homework of my choosing. You can forget about your extracurriculars. I will require your deep, undivided attention.” 

Sure, those lines aren’t original. Between his firing nerves and his throbbing member, Brian has little room left for creative thinking.

The bed shifts. Justin’s carefully distributed weight surrounds him without ever actually touching his overly stimulated skin, turning him on in every way. Brian claws at the sheets, breathes through clenched teeth, and opens his eyes to the most erotic sight he’s ever experienced.

Justin, cheeks cherry red, dips his head over the tent in Brian’s shorts and licks his lips hungrily. He gives the illusion of a blowjob without ever actually making contact, swirling his tongue around, licking his fingers, and fuck if that doesn’t make Brian forget about his slowly warming, calming feet. His heart races, his mind clouds, and the mental repetition of _hurts hurts hurts_ turns to _Justin Justin Justin..._

 _...Justin,_ who presses his tongue into his cheek, bulging the flesh out, and then makes the most obscene and erotic pop.

Brian releases into his boxer briefs with a shudder, the stain expanding like a tiny Rorschach test on the navy blue cotton. Justin licks his lips as if he’s tasted the sweetest treat. 

“How did I do, Mr. Kinney?” 

Brian exhales, releases his death grip on the sheets. “Gold star, Mr. Taylor.”

It’s minutes later, his heartbeat finally calming, that Brian notices those ridiculous, and okay yea _soft_ and _warm_ , Buzz Lightyear socks on his feet. He’s too busy riding out his post-orgasm wave to care, though. 

Outside, the wedding march booms. Queers cheer. _I now pronounce you nellie and nellie_ echoes. 

Justin crawls back up the bed, takes his permanent spot beside Brian, and rests his head as close as he can without touching. Then Brian whispers the words that have been on his tongue since just before the unfortunate flare up took hold. They hang in the air between, a promise long in the making.

“Fuck it. Let’s show the breeders and Jesus freaks the _glamorous side_ of gay marriage.” 

Then Justin’s face lights up like Liberty Avenue itself, their soap opera renewed for another season.

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: I don't have personal exprience with peripheral neuropathy so I don't know that I've gotten all the details just right. I do know that it's sometimes a long term side effect of radiation. Keeping feet warm helps for some and not for others, but for the purposes of this fic, it does help Brian. 
> 
> I apologize to all the Toy Story fans...I dunno where that came from.
> 
> Anyway, this started as a play on words and became something else. I hope you enjoy. Comments are my poppers.


End file.
